


Another One for Good Luck

by lunaseemoony



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Book: The Stone Rose, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, Post-Episode: s02e05-06 Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor is trapped in a tiny jail cell with Rose in the pouring rain, while huddling close for warmth memories of recent events flood his mind. Ideas spring forth, and Rose is to tempting to not try them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another One for Good Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goingtothetardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/gifts).



> This is for goingtothetardis/mountaingirlheidi, one of my March blogs of the month, who prompted me with the Doctor and Rose kissing in the rain. Hope you like it! Also counts towards this week’s timepetalsprompts ficlet prompt for spring under the idea rain. 
> 
> Note: this fic assumes that The Stone Rose took the place of GITF canonically.

“This why you told me to bring an umbrella Doctor?” Rose grumbled as she twisted and writhed next to him to reach up and jostle the umbrella through the top slats of their cell.  “And what kind of jail is this, outside? I feel like a rat in a trap.”

Really, it was a cage. But the Doctor was the cleverer Time Lord for not pointing this out to Rose and incite further anger over it. “Well. I don’t mind a bit of bonding in captivity, myself. But I’ll point out that sassing the governor was _not_ part of the plan.”

“If you think I’m not gonna stand up for what’s - oof!” 

Mid sentence, Rose slipped and fell to her bum. Her growling only thinly veiled a wincing hiss. He relaxed when she shifted to sit up and take a breath while silently reprimanding the cage for adhering to the laws of gravity. 

“Aha!” She stabbed the air with her prize, a particularly familiar black and red umbrella. 

They both spent a minute playing tetris with the umbrella to get it situated so it covered them both. Cramped in the cage in two twisted pretzels in a torrential downpour, it wasn’t ideal. Rain had ruined his hair, was seeping into his transdimensional pockets, and within minutes he’d been soaked to the bone. But he wasn’t complaining while huddled under his coat with a shivering Rose (though she was trying to conceal it, which being honest he adored) rubbing her now sore shoulder. He knew where she was really sore, and maybe someday she’d let him massage away that wound too. Not today. Today he wasn’t so lucky. At least in that regard. 

“Doctor?”

By the gods even when sopping wet she was beautiful. What else was he to do to pass the time (he’d come up with a rather clever plan of not dying, and he was running with it) while Rose’s bare and glistening shoulders teased his eyes? Her powder blue sundress had already been sending his imagination reeling before it clung to her skin and her perfectly imperfect features. He could keep his hands busy with soothing her (and mapping luscious legs) at least. But his eyes were free to roam over the buttons to her dress, rivulets of rain disappearing in her cleavage (she had him questioning his sanity when this produced thoughts of being a raindrop), and how much her face ripened when kissed by the rain.

“Doctor?”

Speaking of which, he was swearing in Gallifreyan under his breath just noticing her lips darkening to a bright wine color. She was cold, and he should’ve been thinking about warming her up. But the sight took him back a few months (her time of course) earlier to their kiss in Rome. Celebratory snogs weren’t the norm for him but for the pure joy he felt when Rose literally and figuratively brought him to light flew to his goddess’s lips before he could really stop himself. In retrospect of course he wouldn’t dare. The blush on her cheeks and skip in her heart told him she’d loved it as much as he did. 

He’d meant it when he said she was his luck. Outside the endless circle of rescuing one another, the Doctor nursed a sense of fathomless hope when Rose was with him. It only grew the longer she was with him. It wasn’t the first time they’d face certain death, but today all she could think about was keeping warm and dry, placing blind faith in their own luck even if a plan failed. After falling asleep in his arms last night, utterly fatigued from grief over dropping off Mickey, Rose seemed to think nothing of curling up with him in the rain. 

He had a wealth of reasons to want to kiss Rose Tyler. Perfect lips, stolen chances, a few simple words uttered prior to dozing off last night about what he meant to her, three simpler words that were too stubborn to pass his own lips, maybe even just pure pleasure. But a pair of dark caramel eyes gleaming with hope and dare he say a bit of - not yet. Not time for that word,  _yet._ Maybe soon. She gave him hope. Anyway, that little smile she gave him when she trusted him the most, they brought him back to that kiss between him and his goddess, his fortune. There was nothing wrong with wanting another one simply for luck, was there? Rose was his spring, the sunshine peaking through the clouds after -

“Doctor!” 

“Yes! You were saying? I’m here. A plan, right? Maybe? Sorry, got lost in thought.” 

“What planet were you visiting?” She knocked on his head. “’s like you weren’t there. What were you -”

The Doctor leaped for his opportunity before the nerves buzzing through his veins changed his mind. Oh and he could’ve drank in her gasp in surprise when he dove for her mouth. Their lips crashed and slipped, but the tremor accompanying knocking teeth surged him forward. He closed what little distance was left between them, knocking the umbrella away. He loved to think that even the rain couldn’t stream between their faces when they met. Not only met, reunited. He dared to play with the thin strap of her dress, filing away a delicious idea for later if he could consider himself so bold. He’d have to answer to the fire her nibbling teeth and slick tongue stoked deep in his belly somehow. He hadn’t needed a better reason to devise a proper escape plan. But he had one now. 

He was devising clever answers to a question she hadn’t asked when they finally came up for air. Perhaps warming her up a little so she wouldn’t develop a chill, or a little slip that happened to see his mouth meeting hers (in a way that was still simmering on his lips breaths later). She never asked. Rose simply blushed and smiled sheepishly as they fiddled with the umbrella to cover their heads again. He had some good words for why that were at the tip of his tongue. But if he believed she was his good luck then so were her kisses. So he waited, and was handsomely rewarded later.


End file.
